James Alan Henderson 2/16/76 - 4/19/13
I have fought the good fight. I have finished the race, and I have remained faithful. 2 Timothy 4:7
We are blessed with 5 children: Jacob(& wife Jessica), Justin, Jonathan, Olivia & Nathaniel
• Anyone wishing to make a contribution, may send donations to:
Healing Henderson, C/O The Bank Of Delmarva, 2727 N. Salisbury Blvd., Salisbury, MD 21801 or Stephanie Somers, Customer Service Representative--email: firstname.lastname@example.org -410-742-9401
or Henderson's, 9289 Tournament Drive, Delmar, MD 21875 or email: email@example.com
November 1, 2013 ~ Thank you James Alan Henderson
Nov 1, 2013 11:23am
As we enter the month where everyone begins to reflect on gratitude, I begin with my thank you to James Alan Henderson, my sweet Marine, for coming into my life.
We didn't finish our story with a satisfactory ending. I hated the ending of our story but the beginning was wonderful. Sometimes I am afraid that I can't keep you alive enough. Whatever I can do, it's not enough. You deserve so much more. I'm glad we chose one another from the moment we met.
Thank you for choosing me. Thank you for believing in me. Thank you for giving me your wonderful family. Thank you for making an amazing little boy with me. Thank you for being an incredible father to our children. Thank you for blessing us with the gift of you!
Just six months without you, and I realize each day that you were right, you know -
cars don't run without gas;
And I am someone new:
The end was terrible. He was living in pain in spite of morphine and a cocktail of many narcotics. During the last week of his life, I was praying that God would take him. So, when he died, I was grateful that it was peaceful and finally over for him. I felt relief. I thought that was the end of it. I didn't know it was a new beginning.
Over time, my obsession of analyzing his passing became a distraction from my grieving. Rather than facing the truth and finding healing, I was distracting myself from the pain. Well…as much as one could anyway. Eventually, I began to realize that I would always be left with a multitude of unanswerable questions and let myself drift into an ocean of pain and emotion. While I never lost that tendency towards trying to “intellectualize” my grief, I have begun to appreciate and embrace my emotional side as well. There is a delicate balance between trying to understand and just letting myself feel.
In the first week after the funeral, I read an article about grief. It gave instructions on obtaining peace, moving on, and getting over the tragedy. I thought, there is no way I will ever get over this. I was correct. I feel the loss every single minute, every single day. I have struggled for over six months with trying to obtain that peace, move on and get over it as the article suggested. But, it just is not happening. I am going to stop condemning myself for continually trying to "get over" our loss. It is not going to happen. It is an amputation. The limb that was lost in my family tree will never grow back.
As his life slipped away from him, I stood next to his bedside and watched, thinking this may be his last breath. He was unable to speak words, only audible sounds. I held his hand and placed it over my heart. I told him to please just rest and it was time for him to stop fighting and let go. I told him that he would always be with me. He reached out to me and looked into my eyes and I know I heard him say, "I love you." And, I will never, ever forget that moment.......
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